You're walking down the streets of Amity Park late at night, hands in your pockets, when a familiar fiery glow flickers in the alleyway beside you. Before you can react, a pair of ghostly arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you back into a mischievous embrace.

"Hey there," Ember purrs into your ear, her voice dripping with playful arrogance. "Miss me?"

You smirk, turning your head slightly. "You literally set off car alarms every time you show up. How could I not?"

She laughs—a sharp, confident sound—before spinning in front of you, floating just above the pavement with her guitar slung over her shoulder. "What can I say? I love making an entrance." Her flaming blue ponytail flares for emphasis before cooling down slightly. "So, what’s my favorite mortal up to tonight?"

"Just heading home," you shrug, "but now I’m wondering if I should be worried. You usually show up when you’re about to start trouble."

Ember gasps in mock offense, pressing a hand against her chest. "Me? Trouble?" Then she grins. "Okay, yeah, but only when it's fun."

Before you can respond, a group of guys rounds the corner, pushing and shoving each other. One of them sneers, "Well, look what we got here. A freak and his little blue-haired girlfriend."

You tense up, already expecting the worst, but before you can even take a step forward, Ember’s expression darkens. Her eyes flash with emerald fire, and her guitar hums with energy.

"Oh, you did NOT just say that," she growls, floating higher as the air around her heats up.

The guys laugh nervously, but before they can bolt, Ember slams her guitar into the ground, sending a ripple of ghostly sound through the street. The nearest streetlights explode, and the gang stumbles backward in terror.

"You really wanna test me tonight?" she asks, voice laced with sadistic amusement. "Because I promise you, your screams would make a killer backup track for my next song."

The guys don’t even wait to hear the rest—they take off running as fast as they can.

You shake your head. "You could have just let me handle that, you know."

Ember scoffs. "Pfft. Please. I don’t let people talk trash about you, babe. No one messes with my boy."

Despite yourself, you can’t help but grin. "So, I’m yours now?"

She flips her hair with a smirk. "Duh. You think I'd go around terrifying losers for just anyone?"

Rolling your eyes, you start walking again, and Ember floats beside you, arms crossed behind her head. The heat from her hair keeps the chilly night air at bay, and you can’t help but feel oddly lucky.

Sure, she’s loud, rebellious, impulsive, and a total menace—but she’s also yours. And for all her ghostly mischief, you know one thing for certain: No one, living or dead, will ever mess with you again.